


But You Like Him Better

by MaggicSorceress



Series: Don't you wish you were Heather? [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Hurt No Comfort, I kin Nightmare too hard, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Songfic, THIS PHYSICALLY HURT ME, not me playing into Nightmare's trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggicSorceress/pseuds/MaggicSorceress
Summary: Nightmare really wished his brother would just...stop sometimes.
Relationships: Dream/Cross, Nightmare/Cross (onesided), Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Don't you wish you were Heather? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927036
Comments: 36
Kudos: 74





	But You Like Him Better

**_I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater_ **

Let it be known that Nightmare was the embodiment of negativity, and no, he wasn’t saying that just to be edgy.

From the inky black goop that covered his bones down to the very chemical makeup of his soul, he was, in essence, every negative emotion to ever exist. Anger, jealousy, fear, guilt, frustration…

Sadness…

It’s all he was, all he ever would be.

There was a time when he thought to think differently about that last bit, fought to believe he was more than the essence of his soul and the monster everyone made him out to be, but in the end there was no point to it.

There was no reason to die to prove a point, so he stopped trying to.

After all, if people were only going to see you as a bad guy, why try to be anything different?

**_You said it looked better on me than it did you_ **

Despite the things he _was_ , however, he wasn’t unable to experience other emotions, ones that most people grouped in the more _positive_ side of the ever-spinning wheel of emotions. He could feel happiness and pride, unabashed joy and hopefulness, love...He just didn’t gain anything from them.

He could sense all emotions, in not only himself but other people. A healthy person had a decent balance of both positive and negative feelings at their disposal, he just couldn’t benefit from any of the positive ones.

He grew stronger with people’s negativity, with their hatred and greed and anger, so he saw no reason to encourage any ounce of positivity from those that worked for him. He needed to be strong after all.

But…

**_Only if you knew, how much I liked you_ **

Oddly enough, there was one lackey of his in particular that he didn’t mind feeling sudden swells of positivity from, especially in comparison to the others that worked for him. He wasn’t quite sure what made this one unique, maybe it was the deeply rooted sense of duty and loyalty? But it couldn’t be, as Killer behaved much the same, if a little more childishly. Perhaps it was his patience, his ability to keep such a close rein on his emotions, that Nightmare appreciated. It was nice to have someone who used their brain instead of just their brawn on his side.

Cross was strong too, so maybe Nightmare just valued having someone he could have an intelligent conversation with. Still, that didn’t quite explain _why_ he never felt as angry with the ex guard for showing a wider range of emotions than the other’s in his squadron, and for the longest time he really couldn’t figure out why that was.

**_But I watch your eyes as she walks by_ **

Maybe it was because Cross felt _real_ , like a person instead of a delicately crafted machine, someone with complex emotions, a brain that wasn’t overrun with insanity, and a soul that functioned perfectly well despite the other half of it being human. Someone who did bad things to reach a noble end goal.

Someone a little bit like himself.

Nightmare wasn’t evil, he’d like to make that clear. He couldn’t help thriving on the misery of others, it was just how he functioned. He gained no sick satisfaction out of making people suffer, he only gained strength and power, and that was what he was after, after all.

So, why then did causing Cross’s laughter make him feel like he could lift the entire multiverse onto his shoulders without breaking a sweat? Why did he feel suddenly weightless every time Cross grinned at him, wide and unabashed even though he was only just being himself?

Why would Cross’s positivity have such a profound effect on him when no one else’s did?

**_What a sight for sore eyes_ **

He shouldn’t have gained anything from Cross’s happiness, that was more of his brother’s forte.

Speaking of his goody-two-shoes of a brother, Dream made his job far harder than it was meant to be.

They were meant to keep a balance in the multiverse, no more positivity than there was negativity and vice versa. Yet however many times Dream blamed him for shifting the balance in his favour, it really wasn’t all that true.

There were far too many positive universes, and far too many overly positive people that could supercharge his brother like a nuclear reactor. He had to fight him on multiple occasions to keep hold of some of the more negative universes he had amassed, but Dream refused to be swayed no matter how many times Nightmare brought up the balance, or how he needed those worlds to remain as strong as he was. Dream seemed to think that weakening him would restore him to the person that he had been all those centuries ago, and although Nightmare wasn’t sure about how accurate that deduction was, he quite honestly didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t want to go back to the person he was.

**_Brighter than a blue sky_ **

Could he blame his brother for wanting to turn every universe in the multiverse positive? No, not really, since he knew his brother well enough to know that Dream was doing it for a completely selfless reason.

That’s what drew people to Dream. He was goodness incarnate, lacking a single mean bone in his body.

Centuries ago, when Nightmare was someone else entirely, he had adored his brother for that. Dream was endlessly kind, and patient to a level that Nightmare envied at times. People gravitated towards Dream for these aspects of his personality, but also for his aura. Nightmare knew of the calming, happy effect of his brother’s magic, knew it was the reason the soulless artist hanged around him, and why so many people worshipped the ground he walked on.

It seemed some things never changed, not even since their childhood.

_**She’s got you mesmerised, while I die** _

Nightmare loathed that about people. How they only ever came to his brother to use him, and how Dream always went along with it. If Dream weren’t so naïve, Nightmare knew he would have seen what he saw. Seen that people only wanted him for his goodness, and if that were gone they would have thrown him to the side as they did with his negative half. The part of Nightmare, however small it was, that still cared about his brother hated that, hated that they never saw Dream for the person he was, and he knew Dream had felt the same way about everything he had faced.

Dream was a good person, through and through, but…

Nightmare really wished he would just… _stop_ …

**_Why would you ever kiss me?_ **

He hated how Dream drew Cross into his little positive bubble so easily, how quickly Cross had been swept up in Dream’s brilliance and how he trailed after it like a starved man.

Why was it always the same? Why was it, that no matter how _hard_ he tried, he could never compare to his sunshine twin?

Dream hardly had to try to make people like him, his aura did that for him, and at first, Nightmare could only assume the same had happened to Cross, that’d he’d been swept up in the warmth and comfort of Dream’s positivity, falling into it like so many others.

But somehow, that didn’t seem to be the case.

**_I’m not even half as pretty_ **

When Nightmare’s group would run into Dream’s while fighting for one world or another, he’d find Cross watching Dream with a soft curiosity, watching the two brother’s exchange blows but eye lights trained on the golden twin at all times. At times, Cross would smile at some remark that _Dream_ would make, muffling sounds of amusement into the fluffy collar of a sweater Nightmare knew was too warm to be worn during a fight.

The jealousy that would flare wildly inside of him during these times was new and strange, and he didn’t like it very much…

But he disliked the smile Cross had reserved for Dream even more.

**_You gave her your sweater, it’s just polyester_ **

There were times, nights, when he and Cross would sit together in his study, playing cards or chess or just lounging in their chairs, talking and drinking, coffee for himself and hot chocolate for the guard, because Cross, endearingly, could never quite stomach the taste of coffee. Normally, those chats would be about everything and nothing, starting on one topic and ending on another completely different one, late into the night, laughing loudly, faces pressed into the mahogany desk where their empty mugs rested, untouched for hours.

Nightmare loved those nights, and wished fervently that they would happen more often, that he would get the chance to just sit and talk to Cross like he used to, to make the guard laugh his, honestly adorable, laugh.

But now, it seemed all Cross wanted to talk about was Dream.

**_But you like her better_ **

Their late-night chats turned into Nightmare answering the sheer amount of questions Cross had about his brother. What sort of things Dream liked to do, what his favourite colour was—which should have been obvious—and if he had a favourite food. These were just Nightmare naming a few of the questions Cross had asked, and it seemed like no matter how many answers he gave away, Cross’s curiosity couldn’t be satiated.

He started asking Nightmare for permission to leave their base of operations, a large mansion in an abandoned universe, to go visit Dream.

**_I wish I were Heather_ **

And Nightmare let him, because the joyous smile Cross gave him in return helped curb the way his soul twisted painfully.

**_Watch as she stands, with her holding your hand_ **

Somehow, later, Cross managed to convince him to host a party of sorts. He also managed to convince him to invite his brother, and said brother’s friends, to it. At first, Nightmare had been very against the idea, but the idea was welcomed very well by the other occupants of the mansion, and Nightmare felt hard pressed to turn all of them down.

“Think of it as…an unofficial peace offering!” Cross had said. “That, and an excuse to flaunt some of that natural extravagance of yours, Night!”

Magic had rushed to his cheeks at Cross’s compliment, and he’d turned away from him to hide the sight of how warm his face had gotten, crossing his arms stubbornly over the rapid beating of his soul in his chest.

But fine, if it was an extravagant party that Cross wanted, Nightmare would host the most extravagant ball the multiverse had ever seen.

**_Put your arm ‘round her shoulder, now I’m getting colder_ **

Days later, Cross approached him, hesitant and awkward, eyes glued to the floor as if ashamed of meeting Nightmare’s gaze. Softly, shyly, he requested that Nightmare teach him how to waltz, as he assumed such a formal gathering would require it. Ignoring the way his soul gave an excited throb in response to Cross’s request, Nightmare agreed to teach him, and led him out of his study and into the large ballroom that the mansion housed. Nightmare had always thought it was more of a castle, but it lacked the library he had so wanted and the large towers.

When he stepped into the centre of the ballroom, footsteps echoing around him, and extended a hand to Cross, his soul fluttered when the other took it with no hesitation, and he pulled the guard closer, showing him where to place his hands and guiding him into a slow waltz.

**_But how could I hate her?_ **

By the time they had repeated the same sequence about a dozen times, and Cross had taken the lead, hand firm on Nightmare’s waist, the guardian of negativity had to fight to keep his legs from shaking and his tentacles from curling up tightly against his back.

They repeated this occurrence on the days leading up to the ball, and everyday Nightmare found himself desperately hoping that Cross would pull him even closer every time they spun around the empty ballroom, refusing to meet the mismatched eyes of the slightly taller skeleton, as there would be no hiding that hope if the other’s eyes met his own.

**_She’s such an angel_ **

Dream, because he was that kind of person, had agreed to come to the gathering.

Which was a pity, cause Nightmare had been hoping he wouldn’t.

He would have been content to spend the night of that ball being guided and spun around the room by Cross.

**_But then again, kinda wish she were dead as she walks by_ **

By the time the day of the ball rolled around, Cross was noticeably confident in his dancing, and Nightmare was silently hoping the other would ask to dance with him at some point during the night. With that hope in mind, he dressed smartly, in a pair of dark dress pants and an equally dark tunic. The tunic itself was bordered with silver, and he complimented the otherwise simple looking outfit with a long purple cape that hung off his shoulders, secured by an equally silver chain that sat heavy across his collarbone, a crescent moon pendant holding the chain in place. The cape obscured his tentacles, keeping them from view when they hung limp and curling from his back, but would allow him to use them if the situation called for it.

He gave himself a quick once-over in his bedroom mirror before he deemed himself ready to emerge and greet his ‘guests’.

**_What a sight for sore eyes_ **

As he made his way into the ballroom, he raised his chin the barest bit, hoping to exude more confidence than he was currently feeling. He hadn’t only invited the Stars, that would be too small a gathering for something so extravagant after all, so he’d asked the members of his little legion to each come up with a few other’s they wanted to see there. True, a fair bit of people hadn’t shown up, put-off and concerned by the guardian of negativity’s sudden invitation. Still, the ballroom was decently crowded, and a small band, courtesy of one of the more negative worlds he had gained possession over, was playing in the far corner of the ballroom, the room’s acoustics allowing the sound to travel the length of it without a problem.

**_Brighter than a blue sky_ **

Many of the people he passed backed off with barely restrained fear and respect, and he fought down the smirk that wanted to grow on his face as he took note of those emotions, pride swelling. He scanned the crowd as he made his way through it, searching for a skeleton that was no doubt still dressed in some strange combination of white and black and, sure enough, standing quietly by a table of hors d'oeuvres with Horror was Cross, looking put-together and handsome in a white suit jacket and black dress shirt, pants the same colour as his shirt.

When he noticed Nightmare making his way towards him, he stopped scanning the crowd and gave him a small smile. Nightmare felt his soul begin to pound again, face remaining calmly indifferent as he took his place beside the guard.

_**She’s got you mesmerised, while I die** _

They exchanged pleasant conversation for a few minutes before something else seemed to catch Cross’s eyes.

Or to be more accurate, _someone_.

It seemed like his brother had finally arrived.

When Nightmare turned to follow Cross’s gaze to where Dream most likely was, he had to choke down a sound when he saw how the other looked.

Dream practically glowed as he made his way across the ballroom, wearing a modest dress that was clearly coloured to mimic a sunset. It flowed elegantly around him, sparkling in the lights from the chandeliers. His signature cape, the one that he always so adamant about never taking off, was nowhere to be found. Instead, a far more elegant version sat in its place, unconsciously copying the way Nightmare’s own cape sat, fastened across his collarbone by a golden sun.

**_Why would you ever kiss me?_ **

Dream caught the two of them watching him, and sent them a shy smile and a wave. The movement seemed to unfreeze Cross, and Nightmare watched in resignation as the guard left his side and plant himself at Dream’s side instead. He must have said something nice to the positive guardian when he arrived too, and the sudden wash of gold across Dream’s was enough to cause Nightmare’s non-existent gut to roll uncomfortably. He looked away…

Only to look back a few moments later when Dream’s chiming laugh rang out. Cross was bowing deeply in front of him, a hand outstretched. Nightmare watched as Dream reached out and took Cross’s hand, and watched still as Cross pulled Dream to him into a slow waltz.

It was the same movement he had seen and experienced many times.

**_I’m not even half as pretty_ **

Feeling sick, he watched Dream’s friends cheer in excitement, and Dream and Cross smile and laugh as they made their way around a section of the ballroom, swaying and moving with so much fluidity that Nightmare wondered if they were floating.

Inside, he knew that he and Cross had not looked like that when they’d danced.

They were grinning so widely at each other, laughing softly, and the sheer amount of joy radiating off them was enough to give him a headache.

**_You gave her your sweater, it’s just polyester_ **

Unsure if he wanted to vomit or cry, Nightmare decided he couldn’t stand being in the same room as the two of them any longer, couldn’t stand seeing Cross smiling like that at someone else. So, he made his way back out of the ballroom, closing the large double doors behind him. He walked back over to the large staircase that led to the second floor of the mansion, and managed to make it a few steps before his shaking legs gave out and he collapsed, hands breaking his fall on old red carpet.

**_But you like her better_ **

He slapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking as a well of emotions rose from inside him and spilled over and down his cheeks in mismatching streaks of teal and purple. Nightmare shuffled to sit normally on the stairs, pulling a knee to his chest as his tentacles curled around him, intent on hiding him from view. Unsure why he expected this night to go any differently, Nightmare let everything that had been culminating over the past few months out, soul shattering and reforming as he fought back his feelings with an iron fist and rebuilt his walls, painfully and slowly.

**_I wish I were Heather_ **

After all, who was he compared to Dream?

**Author's Note:**

> So, I finally got around to listening to 'Heather' by Conan Gray and my multishipper brain decided to put this mental image in my head and break me. And obviously I had to share this will all of you so you could feel my pain :)  
> Anyway, I hope you guys liked it! Comments and kudos are always lovely to see! <3  
> -Maggic


End file.
